


No Limits

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Noct loses control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: When Noctis and his friends hear of refugees trying to escape Insomnia, they travel back to the city's border to help. But Noctis, overwhelmed by grief and rage, pushes himself too hard. Wielding incredible amounts of magic to stop the MTs, he goes beyond Stasis and puts his life, and the lives of his friends, in terrible danger.





	No Limits

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, okay, this entire story came from one of the best tropes of all time: [the cooldown hug.](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CooldownHug)
> 
> Also, my headcanon is that Noct (and Regis) have prophetic dreams, brought on by their connection to the Crystal. I consider the Omen trailer to be a prophecy (a what could be if Noctis goes on his journey alone).
> 
> Anyway, that's enough from me. Enjoy!

The hunt was not going well. MTs had them pinned down. This close to Insomnia, they had an apparently endless source of backup. Prompto took down another one, clearing his line of sight. He saw Gladio slicing through a batch of five, and Ignis cutting them down with ruthless efficiency.

And Noct? Prompto couldn’t miss him. He wielded magic, blasts of flame and lightning wrecking entire groups of MTs. He was the first line of defence for the refugee buses fleeing the city. Prompto, Gladio and Ignis took out anything that got past him.

And with more troops arriving, more slipped past him.

“We should fall back,” Ignis shouted. “We must rethink our strategy.”

“No,” Noctis called back. “Not until all of the refugees are safe.”

They’d heard reports from Hunter HQ that people had broken out of Insomnia, tales of unimaginable suffering coming with them. Noctis refused to do nothing, so he’d insisted they’d return to the city’s border and help those fleeing.

Unfortunately, that meant taking on hordes of MTs.

“We need to break through,” Gladio said. “Noct, get over here and – argh!”

A MT scored a lucky blow, its spear catching Gladio’s side.

“Gladio!” Noctis shouted.

“I’m fine,” Gladio grunted. “Stay back! I got this!”

But the MTs swarmed, their jerky limbs taking them closer and closer to Gladio. No one was close enough to reach him in time.

No one but Noctis. He warped across the space between them, burying his sword in the MT’s back.

“Thanks,” Gladio said.

“Yeah.” And Noctis was gone again, warping back into the fray.

“Coulda used a Potion, Noct!” Gladio shouted.

Prompto ran to Gladio’s side, helping the man to his feet and handing over a Potion. “You alright?”

Gladio took the Potion. The wound on his side scabbed over, Noctis’ magic working in an instant to heal it. “Let’s move.”

Ignis joined them and they ran for cover.

“Watch out!” Noctis shouted. “Behind you!”

Prompto looked over his shoulder, barely avoiding a spear to the face. He pushed Ignis and Gladio aside and dropped to the ground. A Firaga blast roared between them and the troops, obliterating them.

“Thanks, Noct!” Prompto called out.

“Oi, cool it with the magic!” Gladio bellowed. “You’re gonna set us on fire!”

“So take cover,” Noctis said, cold fury crackling in his voice. “I’ve got this.”

“Noct –” Ignis began.

“I said take cover.”

The others fell back, taking cover behind the wrecked cars littering the border crossing into the city. Buses lined the road, frightened faces filling the windows. Noctis had to get the refugees to safety. There were so many troops flying in. He had to stop every last one of them. He unleashed wave after wave of magic, tearing through the ships and any troops made it to the ground.

And yet it wasn’t enough. MTs fell in droves, but there were always more coming, five replacing every one that fell. They wouldn’t let the buses pass.

Not that it stopped Noctis. The magic kept coming. He knew he was risking the worst Stasis of his life, but he didn’t care. He went beyond his limits. He had to.

The people of Insomnia needed him to.

“How is he doing that?” Prompto asked Ignis.

“I don’t know. He’s losing control,” Ignis said. “We need to stop him.”

“Not yet,” Gladio said. “Let him take out as many as he can.”

Ignis stared at him. “Gladio, that’s –”

“Dangerous, I know, but the buses aren’t clear yet.”

Ignis relented.

“Can we stop him?” Prompto asked. He’d never, ever seen his friend like this, never watched him fight so dangerously. “You know, if we need to.” He looked at Ignis. “Do we need to stop him?”

Ignis said nothing, pressing his lips together into a thin line

A loud metallic crunch distracted them. Gladio looked over his shoulder. A large MA tank blocked the road, stopping the buses from moving. “Shit. We’re gonna need to take that out, otherwise –”

Missiles fired in all directions. Magic hit back, Thundaga exploding them in midair.

Almost all of them.

One escaped Noctis’ reach.

“Run!” Gladio shouted.

They couldn’t move fast enough. One missile exploded just ahead of them, throwing them off their feet. Gladio struggled to sit up, ears ringing, head throbbing. He looked over, his vision unsteady. Ignis was out cold, glasses askew. Prompto was upright, but his eyes were unfocused and a thick gash scored his cheek.

A loud, metallic thud dragged Gladio’s attention back to the situation.

The MA tank was on them, turning away from the buses in favour of those fighting back. Gladio knew he needed to fight, but his body wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t get up.

If he didn’t move, he would die.

And then Noctis appeared, warping from wherever he’d been to stand between his friends and the tank. His magic exploded out of him, and this time the missile did not escape him. It exploded. A shockwave buffeted them, but Noctis stayed on his feet.

Noctis warped again, landing atop the tank. He called the Engine Blade out of the Armiger and buried it up to the hilt in circuitry. The MA tank whined. Noctis warped away. The tank exploded behind him, taking out waves of MTs with it.

Cheers erupted from the buses. The drivers hit their accelerators and drove away, the buses rumbling away.

Noctis returned to his friends. The sight of their injuries worried him. He couldn’t stand the idea that the Empire might claim their lives, too. “Hold on,” he told them, and pulled a bottle out of the Armiger. It was a MegaElixir. He cracked it. The magic washed over his friends, healing their wounds.

“Thanks,” Prompto said.

Noctis nodded and warped away again. The refugees were safe, but the MTs kept coming, and Noctis wasn’t in a forgiving mood. And he wasn’t slowing down. Spell after spell tore out of him. He should’ve hit Stasis long ago, but the magic kept coming, dragged out of him from his innate connection to the Crystal. He didn’t care about the cost to himself. He wouldn’t let the MTs return to Insomnia. He wouldn’t allow them to terrorise any of the survivors still trapped within the city. He would slaughter every last one of them.

Noctis ignored his body’s protests. He ignored the shouts of his friends telling him to stop. A deep, dark rage filled him. Every MT he saw had to die.

They were the reason Insomnia had fallen.

They were the reason so many had died.

They were the reason his dad was gone.

Magic scalded his veins, jagged lines standing out against his pale skin. It hurt, but he didn’t care. With just a simple thought, the raw magic turned into ice, fire, thunder…

He would kill every last fucking one of them.

“Enough!” Ignis shouted. “The refugees are gone! We should retreat.”

Noctis didn’t respond. He was too busy destroying MTs with Blizzaga.

“Idiot,” Gladio hissed from Prompto’s side. “He’s gonna burn himself out.”

“We can’t let him do that,” Ignis said, concern thrumming through his words.

“How do we stop him?” Gladio asked.

“If we can get close enough, maybe you can disable him,” Ignis said.

“You can’t do that!” Prompto cried out. “We can’t hurt him. He’s… This is…”

“Give me another option,” Ignis said. He wasn’t being rude or sarcastic. It sounded more like he was begging.

“I can stop him,” Prompto said, the words coming out with far more bravery than he felt. “I can talk to him.”

“Talk to him?” Gladio snorted. “We either knock him out, or wait for him to pass out.”

“He isn’t going to pass out, Gladio,” Ignis said. “He’ll tear himself apart. We shouldn’t have let it go on this long. We have to stop him by any means necessary.”

“We’re not hurting him!” Prompto said.

Prompto ducked out of the rusted car they’d taken cover behind and raced towards Noctis. He heard Ignis shouting at him to wait, but he ran. The air was bitterly cold, frozen winds whipping at him. He waded through the debris, countless MTs in pieces around him.

“Noct!” Prompto shouted, pushing against the icy gusts desperately attempting to throw him back. “You have to stop!”

Prompto’s words fell on deaf ears. Noctis stood, frozen in place, magic screeching out of him. Prompto threw himself out of the way of a lightning bolt, rolling back to his feet just in time for a shattered MT to go flying over his head. He looked up and saw that there was nothing left. Not a single MT.

But there was a drop ship overhead.

Not for long.

“Noct, no way!” Prompto yelled. “Leave it! You can stop now.”

The magic came to a dead stop. The air stilled. Frost melted. Thunder muted. Flames died out.

“Okay, great,” Prompto said, wiping sweat from his head as he finally reached Noctis’ side. “Let’s get out of here. We can –”

The ground shook underfoot.

“Whoa!” Prompto staggered, barely keeping himself upright. “What’s happening?”

Noctis raised a hand. Prompto stared at him, seeing the strange tint to his friend’s eyes. They weren’t their usual blue, but instead a deep, nasty shade of orange. It was only now, up close, Prompto could see the jagged, orange tracks burned into his friend’s skin, simmering like lava seeking a way out.

“Noct…” Prompto murmured, uncertain and unsteady.

A terrible maelstrom whipped around him, the air howling as magic gathered. It tore at everything around it, threatening to throw Prompto back. He stared at his friend and saw something more terrifying than the odd colour of his eyes.

Blood gushed from Noctis’ ears and nose. His skin took on a ghostly tinge. Sweat poured down his face. His body quivered, his breathing ragged.

“Noct, stop,” Prompto said.

“I can’t,” he said, voice strained. “They all have to fall.”

He unleashed the magic. The power roared into the sky, slamming into the jump ship and sending it spiralling away. It crashed in the distance, the explosion powerful enough to knock Prompto off his feet again.

Noctis didn’t move.

And the power tearing out of him didn’t stop.

He coughed, blood spilling over his lips.

Another jump ship approached.

“You have to stop!” Prompto cried out.

“No,” Noctis growled. “They have to pay, Prompto. Either help me, or get out of my way.”

“They will pay, but not like this. You’re hurting yourself!”

Orange smeared eyes turned to Prompto. Tears rolled down Noctis’ face, mingling with the sweat and the blood. “I can’t stop until they’re all gone.” He swung his arm and another intense burst exploded out of him. He doubled over, vomiting blood. It wasn’t enough to stop him. The magic gathered in his hands again.

“Please, Noct,” Prompto said. “You –”

“I said no!”

Blizzaga tore out of Noctis. Teeth chattering, body freezing, Prompto launched himself forwards, wrapping his arms around Noctis. His friend’s body was tense but trembling, the muscles taut beneath his skin. He was burning hot to the touch, melting the ice clinging to Prompto’s body.  

“Stop,” Prompto said gently. “It’s enough now. It’s over. You’re hurting yourself, not the Empire.”

“Prompto…” The air stilled. The power snapped off, fading away in a heartbeat. The tension seeped out of Noctis’ body. He gasped for breath. “Why?” Noctis whispered. “Why did it have to be this way? Why did they have to kill so many people?” He sobbed. “Why did they have to kill my dad?”

“I don’t – Whoa!”

Noctis collapsed into Prompto’s arms. Prompto fell to his knees, Noctis’ unwieldy weight dragging him down.

Prompto held tight to his friend. “It’s okay,” he said softly, reaching up and wiping the blood off Noctis’ face. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Gladio and Ignis ran over. Prompto looked up at them, eyes wide. “You guys okay?”

“Fine,” Ignis said, nudging his glasses up his nose. He looked down at Noctis. “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Never?” Prompto asked.

“Never,” Ignis said. He crouched down, fingers reaching for Noctis’ pulse. Prompto saw him wince at the terrible heat. “He lost control.”

“No,” Gladio said. “It was way more than that. It’s like he was an open conduit. That was the crystal’s power running through him, even at this distance. He was taught to not let that happen. Ever.” He looked at Prompto. “Whatever you just did probably saved his life.”

“I… what… me? No. No way. I just grabbed him in a, uh, manly embrace.” Prompto suddenly became aware he had yet to release Noctis. “Uh…”

“I got him.” Gladio reached over and lifted Noctis. “Shit. That’s a lot of blood.”

“There’s a haven nearby,” Ignis said. “We should go. We have to get his temperature down as fast as possible.”

“Yeah, and let’s move before that ship catches up with us,” Gladio said.

With Gladio in the lead, they ran for the nearest haven.

* * *

They sat around the fire, eating the curry Ignis had prepared. Noctis remained unconscious in the tent. He hadn’t stirred once; not when they changed the cold compress steadily bringing his fever down or when blood oozed from his nose and ears. It looked like he was barely breathing. Prompto had placed a hand on Noctis’ chest more than once to make sure he was. 

“If he doesn’t awaken tomorrow morning, we’ll think about our next move,” Ignis said.

“Cor might know something,” Gladio said. “He’s the only one I can think of that might. I’m way outta my depth.”

“As am I,” Ignis said.

Prompto realised he’d turned to stare into the tent again. He pulled his eyes back to the fire. “I’ve never seen him like that before.” He poked his food. “There’s something I didn’t tell you guys before.”

“About what?” Gladio asked.

“Noct’s eyes,” Prompto said. “They were orange. Like the fire. I’ve never… have you guys ever seen that before?”

“Never,” Gladio said.

Ignis shook his head.

“He didn’t look like himself,” Prompto said. “Maybe he wasn’t himself.”

“That amount of power flowing through him probably warped his mind,” Ignis said.

“He wasn’t going to stop,” Prompto said. “Was he?”

“No,” Gladio said. “He was too far gone for that. He would’ve torn himself apart if not for you.”

“He’s alive because of you, Prompto,” Ignis said.

Blushing brightly, Prompto sat back in his chair. “Magic is kinda terrifying.”

“Imagine the power of the Astrals,” Ignis said.

“Uh, no thanks,” Prompto said.

“When Noct gains their blessings, he’ll be able to call upon their powers,” Ignis said. “I think it will make what he did here today look quite tame in comparison.”

“Tame?” Prompto echoed, eyes wide. “No way.”

“We can’t let this happen again,” Gladio said. “He knows better. We trained him better.”

“We never trained him for this,” Ignis said.

“He knows better,” Gladio said. “He was told, over and over again, that relying too heavily on magic is dangerous.”

“I suppose that’s the problem with emotions. They have a way of overriding logic,” Ignis said.

Gladio scooped curry onto his fork. “That’s why we trained him.” He shoved the fork in his mouth and chewed.

Ignis just sighed.

Prompto finished his meal, thanked Ignis for the food, and returned to the tent. He sat beside Noctis. His friend wasn’t merely asleep. There was a boneless quality to his limbs, a depth to the sleep that suggested Noctis was utterly exhausted. Five hours after Gladio laid him out in the tent and he hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t even complain when Prompto rolled him onto his side and rearranged his arms.

“Sorry, Noct, but the rest of us have to sleep in here tonight, too.”

Noctis didn’t seem to mind.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and sunny. Prompto stretched and yawned. Ignis grabbed his phone and switched off the alarm. Gladio had already stepped out; Prompto could hear his heavy footfalls moving around outside. And Noctis?

He hadn’t moved. He was still far too pale, his breathing slow and steady. Prompto spotted a trail of dry blood running across Noctis’ cheek, and found its matching stain ingrained into the sleeping bag.

Ignis saw it, too. He reached over with a cloth and wiped the blood away. He tested Noctis’ temperature with the back of his hand and frowned. “Too cold now,” he murmured. He tucked the sleeping back up to Noctis’ chin.

“Want me to try waking him up?” Prompto asked.

“You can try,” Ignis said. “I doubt you’ll get anywhere. He’s overextended himself.” He pinched his nose. “I think we may have to visit Cor after all. I’d rather face the Marshal’s wrath than take a risk with Noct’s health out here.”

“Poor Noct,” Prompto said.

“Yes, I think the lecture he’ll receive will go down in history.”

Prompto winced. “Couldn’t we maybe _not_ see Cor?”

Ignis stood up. “If you can wake him, perhaps we won’t. I’ll see to breakfast.” He stepped out.

Prompto parked himself beside Noctis. He tried shaking his friend awake. Nothing. He poked and prodded. Nothing. He hollered and shouted until Gladio stuck his head in and told him to shut up. It was like someone had turned Noctis off. Noctis breathed and that was it. It wasn’t like he was shoving Prompto away or mumbling for five more minutes. He was just… out.

“Come on, Noct, wake up. You don’t wanna get yelled at by Cor, do you?”

Noctis had nothing to say on the matter.

Accepting that the battle was lost, Prompto slid out of the tent. He saw Ignis and Gladio at the camp stove, drinking coffee.

“No luck?” Ignis asked.

“None,” Prompto said. His boot scuffed the haven’s glowing ground. “Can’t we give him another hour?”

“Won’t make a difference,” Gladio said. He handed Prompto a mug of coffee. “Besides, a lecture from Cor is what he needs.”

Prompto took the coffee. “Have you forgotten how terrifying that guy is?”

“I’m not scared of Cor,” Gladio said.

“No, I believe what you have is a healthy respect for the man that borders on hero worship,” Ignis said.

Prompto chuckled.

“He’s a legend for a reason,” Gladio said.

“Indeed. Cor is a formidable person, and one of the few to get through to Noct when he’s in one of his more stubborn frames of mind,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, Noct told me about one of the times Cor laid into him,” Prompto said.

“Was it the time he didn’t turn up to his father’s birthday celebrations because he was too hungover?” Gladio asked.

“Hungover? He never said it was because he was hungover!” Prompto couldn’t imagine his friend drunk at all.

“He was a sixteen-year-old idiot,” Gladio said. “Tried this wine, tasted that spirit, sipped that beer.”

Prompto winced. “Oooh, dude, no. Everyone knows you don’t mix drinks. That’s the first rule of drinking.”

“Like I said, a sixteen-year-old idiot. Cor chewed him up, spat him out, and made him run it off in the Citadel’s gardens,” Gladio said.

“With a hangover?” Prompto asked.

“With a hangover,” Gladio said.

“Wow, that sucks.”

Gladio shrugged. “He’s a prince. You don’t get to be drunk and disorderly when you’re royalty.”

“He was disorderly?” Prompto found it hard to imagine Noctis being disorderly.

“He didn’t turn up to his father’s birthday celebrations,” Ignis said. “So yes, highly disorderly.”

“No, no, I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Ignis said. “He did not make a fool of himself if that’s what you’re worried about, but he had duties to attend to. And more than that, he let his father down on his birthday.”

“Cor made sure he’d never do it again,” Gladio said.

“More importantly, Noct cannot fight the way he did yesterday. Not if we’re to have any hope of stopping the Empire,” Ignis said. “He nearly tore himself apart.”

Gladio shook his head. “That’s a real shame though. Imagine how quickly he’d take them all out if that kind of power was sustainable.”

Prompto laughed nervously. “Yeah, Noct would be unstoppable.”

“Except he isn’t,” Ignis said. “That’s why we’re here. To make sure he doesn’t do something like that again.”

“Sure,” Prompto said cheerily. “With a little help from The Immortal himself.”

“Rather Noct than me,” Gladio muttered.

* * *

They met Cor at the Hunter’s Outpost a few hours later. The man, grim-faced as ever, nodded in greeting. “I had a feeling I’d be hearing from you,” he said. “News of yesterday’s attack has already spread far and wide. The refugees are all overjoyed to be safe, and cannot stop singing the praises of their prince and his men.” His eyes fell upon Noctis, who was still out cold on Gladio’s back. Cor’s expression flickered briefly, a moment of worry swiftly disappearing beneath a stony, unreadable expression. “Take him to the caravan. He’s gonna have to sleep it off.”

Prompto again felt a rush of sympathy. Noct was _really_ gonna get it when he woke up.

Gladio walked away with Noctis. Ignis stayed with Cor. Prompto stayed too. He didn’t know where to go.

“How did this happen?” Cor asked.

Prompto watched Ignis straighten as he delivered his report. He kept it brief and to the point. Cor’s face showed nothing. Prompto had no idea if the man was angry, impressed, totally unbothered or… well, he had no idea.

“It won’t happen again,” Ignis said in conclusion.

“You’re right, it won’t,” Cor said.

“But we were worried,” Ignis said. “Noctis has never pushed himself to such extremes before.”

The words escaped Prompto before he could catch them. “We wouldn’t have made it out of there if he hadn’t.”

Cor turned to him. “You’re right, you wouldn’t have. But you also should’ve known when to retreat. There is no place in a battlefield for petty vengeance. His actions not only endangered all of you, they endangered the future of Lucis. It’s unacceptable.”

Petty vengeance? Petty? Prompto’s knees quivered, but he locked them and held himself tall. “They took our home. They killed Noct’s dad. He – ”

“Cannot hope to take out an entire army, an entire enemy nation, on his own in this way,” Cor snapped. “A king does not throw himself into battles he will lose unless that loss in some way benefits those who stand alongside him. King Regis understood that. Why do you think the four of you were out here when Insomnia fell?”

Prompto couldn’t answer.

Ignis stepped in. “He needs more time to adjust to –”

“He has had ‘time to adjust’ in abundance since the day he was born,” Cor said. “He is of royal blood. He is the Chosen King. And he will fulfil his duty.”

“Noct will do what he must,” Ignis said. “But he’s still human.”

Cor relented. “When he’s coherent, I will speak with him.”

“He’ll be alright?” Ignis asked.

“Sure, after he goes through what will be the worst hangover of his life,” Cor said.

“Worse than the last one?” Prompto asked.

To his shock, Cor chuckled. “Heard about that, did you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Worse,” Cor said. “He’s definitely going to feel worse. But at least when he goes for a run out here, he won’t have to find a plant pot to vomit in.”

* * *

After a night and morning of tossing and turning, mumbling nonsense in his dreams, Noctis _sort of_ came to the following afternoon and immediately staggered to the bathroom to make very, very good friends with the toilet. “Shhhhh. Stop. Just stop.”

Ignis, Gladio and Prompto stared at each other. “Uh, no one’s saying anything,” Prompto called from the caravan’s kitchen.

“Everything’s humming,” Noctis murmured. “Everything. Like the air’s alive.”

“Does anyone hear any humming?” Prompto whispered.

“No,” Gladio said.

“Is he high or is he hungover?” Prompto asked.

“It’s probably an after-effect of the magic,” Ignis said.

Noctis vomited loudly again.

“Gross,” Prompto said. He turned away, dry heaving. “Ugh, I can smell it!”

Gladio clapped him on the shoulder. “Wanna go see if the hunters need some help?”

“Yes!” Prompto leapt to his feet. “Hunting! Let’s do that. Lots and lots of that.”

“Shhhhh!” Noctis moaned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Prompto said. “I just can’t do bodily fluids. We’ll be back later!”

A moan that could have been a goodbye drifted out of the bathroom, echoing like the groan of a dying daemon. Gladio and Prompto ducked out.

Ignis sighed, got to his feet, and stood by the tiny bathroom’s door. Noctis had released the toilet, abandoning it in favour of the floor. Ignis winced, dreading to think how filthy it had to be and how infrequently it would’ve been cleaned. “You need to get up.”

“Spinning,” Noctis mumbled, pressing his hands to his head. “The world’s spinning around me.”

“Things are quite still, I assure you.”

“Falling,” Noctis said. “I can’t stop falling.”

“You’re not falling.”

“Everything’s falling,” he said. His hands lowered, his eyes staring at something Ignis couldn’t see. “Why can’t I stop?”

Ignis crouched down, gently guiding Noctis upright. “You aren’t falling, and the world isn’t moving. Your body is struggling with all the magic you forced through it.”

“No,” Noctis said, his voice strange. He stared up at Ignis, eyes lit with a strange, crystalline glow.

Ignis shuddered. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t understand. Everything will fall. It can’t be stopped. There will be so much darkness, and –”

The caravan’s door opened. Cor entered. He looked at Ignis. “Go with the others,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Ignis said.

With a brief glance over his shoulder, Ignis slipped out of the caravan. Cor sat at the caravan’s small table. “Get off the floor, Noctis.”

Noctis didn’t respond. He was focusing too hard on not throwing up, the sour taste in his mouth foul enough already. His head buzzed, his vision flickering between reality and nightmare. A nightmare of being alone, running and fleeing countless MTs. A nightmare of failing and falling, burning and screaming and dying, everyone dying…

A nightmare in which _Luna…_

“Get up!”

Cor’s voice barely penetrated the vision. A burning hellscape appeared before Noctis, flames and darkness obliterating the world. Daemons surrounded him, their burning eyes locking onto him.

Luna was there. Luna, who he couldn’t –

“Noctis!”

Something shook him. The vision dispersed, and suddenly Cor was in his face, staring at him with a blend of frustration and concern. Noctis’ stomach quailed, vomit crawling up his throat. He swallowed it all back down. Throwing up on Cor would not end well.

To his shock, Cor helped him to his feet and sat him at the table. “How many visions have you had?” he asked. He held out a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding.”

Noctis wiped his nose on the back of his hand and saw a thick trail of blood there. He took the tissue and cleaned himself up. He sat as straight as his churning stomach and throbbing head would allow. “I don’t know how many visions I’ve had.”

“Was that the first?”

Noctis planted his elbows on the table and rested his aching head in his hands. Maybe that would stop the spinning. “No. I don’t… I’m not sure.” He resisted the urge to pillow his head on his arms. Cor wouldn’t let something so unbecoming slide.

“Do you know when they started?” Cor asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“You’ve had them for that long?”

“Since before we left, yeah.” Noctis knew he needed to move the conversation on. Lingering on his dreams wouldn’t end well for his stomach. He’d always had nightmares, but lately they’d take on a more cohesive narrative. Not only that, but he had the same dream over and over… His stomach lurched, but he swallowed hard. Giving into physical weakness wouldn’t end well with Cor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what I did was stupid.”

“We agree on one thing,” Cor said.

Noctis said nothing.

“You were taught better than this,” Cor said. “You cannot throw your life away in such a manner. Think of the shame your father would feel to know his son had acted in such a way.”

“I know.” Noctis’ voice tremored. He swiped at his eyes.

“Too many people are relying on you to fix this. Your father instilled within you a sense of what is expected of a person in your position. You do not have the luxury of attacking when you want, how you want, at this kind of cost to yourself. It is reckless to the point of suicidal. The Hunters could’ve dealt with it.”

“The refugees are my responsibility,” Noctis said. He pressed his lips together, partly to stop himself arguing because he _knew that dammit_ , partly because he felt bile rising again.

“You can’t afford to be so naïve,” Cor said. “You’ll never save everyone.”

“I can try,” Noctis muttered. “Enough have died.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Cor snapped. “A war is no place for idealism. People have died, and more will die still. Even if you complete every task set before you, you cannot hope to put a stop to more death.”

Noctis stared at him. He didn’t respond. He knew nothing he had to say would appease Cor.

“You lost control,” Cor said.

Noctis sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. He could get through whatever lecture he was about to receive without throwing up again. “I should’ve stopped, but I didn’t.” Because he hadn’t wanted to. Why would he? He’d torn through those Imperial troops with barely a flick of his wrist.

“How did it feel?”

Startled, Noctis looked up. Cor’s expression was impassive. He wasn’t taunting. He wasn’t trying to make a point. He wanted to know the answer.

“Well?” Cor demanded.

“I felt like nothing could stop me.”

“You would’ve carried on until it burned right through you,” Cor said. “Without the Ring, that’s what will happen if you go to such an extreme again. You can’t channel that kind of power alone.”

Given how he felt right now, Noctis never wanted to use magic of any kind ever again.

“That power is rightfully yours, but you cannot allow it to control you,” Cor said. “It responded to your anger, your fear, your sorrow, and it gave you everything you wanted and far, far more.”

“Right, I’m supposed to feel nothing.” Noctis couldn’t keep it in, the words dripping with bitterness and sorrow.

“You are King, Noctis,” Cor said. “A great many futures rest upon your shoulders. Your country and your people need you more than ever. This is not the time for you to do what you want out there. You must pick your battles wisely.”

“Refugees aren’t a wise decision?” Noctis asked.

“Not at the lengths you went to,” Cor said. “You cannot risk your life, or the lives of your friends, on something as insignificant as a small imperial fleet. Not only that, but you forced your friend to risk his own life to stop you. Surely you can’t be this selfish. Your father expected better of you.”

Noctis absorbed the verbal blow in silence. The caravan turned a slow loop around him. Gripping the table, wishing it would hold him steady, he swallowed, a thick mixture of bile and vomit sliding back down to his stomach. He sat up straight and met Cor’s gaze. “It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not.” Cor stood up. “Be a help, not a hinderance.”

“I will.”

“The visions you’re having. You don’t have to tell me what they are; your father never shared with me what it was the Crystal revealed to him. But if it’s going to affect your performance in the field, you must inform the others. It’s only fair to them.”

Noctis sat rigid. “This happened to my dad, too?”

Cor looked at him, and for a moment, there was pity in his eyes. “A king’s burdens are many.”

Darkness and fire flashed through Noctis’ mind. Blood. Screaming. Death. He shivered. “Yeah.”

“A vision does not have come to pass.”

Noctis pressed a hand to his head. “Did my dad’s?”

Cor shook his head. “I wouldn’t know.”

Noctis stared at Cor. Sweat ran down his back. Fear thrummed in every beat of his heart. “I hope you’re right. About them not coming to pass.” He couldn’t bear the idea of his dreams of death and darkness becoming reality.

“Come then.” Cor walked to the caravan’s door. He looked over his shoulder with a smirk “You didn’t think you’d get off so easily, did you? There’s only one cure for a hangover, no matter the cause.”

Noctis smothered a groan even if he couldn’t control the grimace. Memories of his misadventures with alcohol were not what his head or his stomach needed. Nauseous and dizzy, he followed Cor out into the blinding sunlight and acrid heat of the Prairie Outpost. Cor held out a bottle of water, which Noctis took. He sipped some of its lukewarm contents, his stomach gurgling its discontent.

“Go until you hit the end of the ruins,” Cor said, pointing towards the old battlefield. “Should be a good enough run to clear your head. Be back before the sun goes down. You shouldn’t be fighting daemons in your condition. And do not attempt magic or warping.”

Biting back a wealth of sarcastic responses, Noctis did as he was told, although his running was more like limping and he barely made it out of Cor’s sight before his stomach lurched and he ducked behind a nearby rock formation to throw up what little remained within him. He gasped for breath, trembling and sweating. The urge to give up almost overpowered him, but he knew better than that. Instead, he drank more of the water and staggered on, weaving back and forth until his equilibrium balanced out.

By the time he made it to the far end of the ruins of a long-destroyed factory, his lungs ached, his body felt like it had gained several hundred pounds, and he’d been sick another three times. But he’d made it. Turning back, he stared out at a barren, war-torn landscape.

How many had died out here for the sake of Lucis? For the sake of peace? How many more were dead or suffering in Insomnia under Niflheim’s rule while he continued to act selfishly?

What would his father think?

For a few moments, the only sound to be heard was Noctis’ rough breathing. He wanted to scream, wanted to weep for his losses. A few stray sobs hiccupped free, but he pulled it all in. Held onto every last scrap of his sorrow, his weakness, his anger and his pain. Because what was any of that in comparison to the suffering of the refugees fleeing Insomnia? To the pain his friends felt at the loss of their homes and families? They were stuck with him, unable to do the things they wanted to do, and instead of doing everything he could to ease their burdens, he added to their trouble with his own stupidity and stubbornness.

His fist thudded against a wrecked tank, metal ringing dully. Kings did not get to wallow, and they did not get to be selfish.

And they did not get time to recover when they did stupid things to themselves.

Noctis began the long trek back to the outpost. He held his head high, determination bleeding through his weary body. He could make this right. He had to. And he could start with an apology to his friends.

He made it back to the Prairie Outpost as the sun set, the lights keeping shadows and daemons at bay. Wasn’t great for the massive headache pounding behind his eyes, but at least he didn’t have to worry about defending himself here. He saw his friends gathered outside the caravan, relaxed and chatting. A flutter of nerves went through him, but he pushed it away.

No time for that.

Noctis approached, trying not to stare longingly at the chairs. He was so, so tired. Prompto saw him first, leaping to his feet with his usual levels of extreme enthusiasm. “Noct! We were about to send out a search party.”

“Ignis and Prompto were,” Gladio said. “I knew you’d be fine.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Ignis said. He looked over to Noctis. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Noctis said. He held himself tall, not allowing himself to look away even though his nerves begged at him to stare right down at his feet.

Not anymore.

He met his friends’ eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was stupid.” He looked to Prompto. “I made you risk your lives because of my own selfishness, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” His eyes drifted down to his boots, but he pulled them back up. “I can’t promise I won’t land us all in more trouble, but I swear I won’t seek it out. I won’t do that again.”

“Good to hear,” Gladio said.

“A lesson learned,” Ignis added.

Prompto smiled. “I’m glad I could stop you,” he said.

“I owe you my life,” Noctis said. “I won’t make you do that again.”

“Hope not!” Prompto said. “You’re kinda terrifying when you’re all – ” He waved his hands around. “ – y’know, super-powered.”

Now he did stare at his boots. “I’m not super-powered.”

“I beg to differ,” Ignis said.

“Right now, you’re super pungent,” Gladio said. “Take a shower. Get changed. And for the love of the Six, brush your teeth. I can smell your puke breath from here.”

“Yeah, you stink, dude,” Prompto said.

“It is unpleasant,” Ignis said. “Go. Do not come out until you smell better.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Noctis climbed the stairs into the caravan. He looked back at his friends. “Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Prompto said.

Nodding, Noctis slipped into the caravan and made for the tiny bathroom. Whatever else happened on this journey of theirs, at least he knew one thing for certain: his friends were the greatest anyone could ever ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget, requests are open between Feb 5th and 11th on my Tumblr! Check out [this post](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/post/170528965125/requests-are-open) and get those requests in while you can :D


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